


it's personal

by starlightkun



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, M/M, OH YEAH GENDER NEUTRAL READER, Other, all us romantically stunted adults need a doyoung like in this fic, and feeling around inexperience with love, but idk maybe yall can relate to it too, but in a fic for people on the internet to read, how fun!, its just a lot of intense thoughts, its literally just me working out my own personal problems abt romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26906293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightkun/pseuds/starlightkun
Summary: in which you love him so much that it hurts, and doyoung helps you embrace it
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Reader
Kudos: 15





	it's personal

Sighing, you clicked your pen a couple more times as your eyes scanned your paper again. You sucked at drawing people, no doubt. But there was no way Doyoung’s could be any better than yours. The timer on your phone went off, startling the both of you as you set your pens down. Doyoung was sitting cross-legged in front of you on your bed, notebook across his lap as you had another one across yours. Somehow your less-than-innocent invite of him coming over had instead turned into a challenge to see who could draw the other better.

“One, two, three,” Doyoung counted down, both of you revealing your drawings on three.

You immediately guffawed at his drawing, in hysterical disbelief, “You were supposed to _try_ , Doyoung.”

“I did!” He replied indignantly, clearly peeved at the fact that you were still laughing, “It’s not like yours is any better!”

“Yes it is!”

“Oh, _please_.”

“Admit it, you lost.”

The man beside you huffed, but nonetheless conceded, “And what’s my punishment?”

“Hm,” you comedically scratched your chin as you pretended to think, having already made up your mind: “A kiss.”

His eyebrow shot up suspiciously, “That’s it?”

“Yep.”

“On the mouth?”

“Mhm.”

“Really?”

“Really,” you confirmed, teasingly puckering up your lips and squeezing your eyes shut.

You could hear him sigh and the bed springs creaking as he shifted himself closer to you. “It’s going to be hard kissing you with your mouth like that,” he informed you, his warm breath tickling the tiny hairs along your cheekbone as you took in just how close he was.

Relaxing your face, you were practically giddy with anticipation as his hand came to hold your chin, turning your face towards his. He pulled you forward just a little bit, connecting your lips softly. Impatient, you tried to deepen it, grabbing at his hair. His hand left your chin to grab yours that had just reached his locks, entwining your fingers with his as he leaned back just a little bit. Enough to look at you endearingly, a soft and bright smile across his face.

You could feel yourself blushing, trying to hide your face behind your free hand, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Doyoung chuckled, grabbing that hand.

With both of your hands now held by his, you had no way to hide your surely pink face as he continued looking at you affectionately.

“Come on, Y/N. Like what?” He repeated, gently shaking your connected hands.

“Like…” you sighed, able to keep eye contact only for a moment before you nervously giggled and looked back down to your hands. He was rubbing his thumb over yours now, soothing and mesmerizing.

“Y/N…”

You finally mumbled out, “Like I’m… like I’m the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen.”

“But you are.”

His bluntness and complete honesty with his feelings to you always caught you off-guard. You ducked your head, dumbly unable to form real words. And then you were being yanked onto his lap, limbs awkwardly hitting his for a moment before he had gotten you settled into a comfortable position.

“Hey, I can’t keep looking at the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen if you’re hiding from me,” Doyoung teased you, trying to coax your face out of the crook of his neck. “Really? _You’re_ being shy right now?”

“I’m just… so happy,” you finally admitted as you looked up at him. Once again, his dark but inviting eyes caught you, welcoming you eagerly to the deepest parts of him, as if he had no qualms about sharing every part of himself with you.

A wide grin spread across his face as he kissed you once, twice, three times, “Me too, Y/N.”

* * *

Your happy haze was over just later that night, when he had to drag himself out from your bed and back to his dorms. NCT was going on a world tour, one whole month away from Korea. From you. Their plane was leaving the next morning, and Doyoung had managed to worm the promise of seeing him off at the airport out of you.

And you truly had every intention of following through with that. But after he had left, as you laid in your bed, thumb hovering over the button to set an alarm for 4 AM, sheets still vaguely left with Doyoung’s warmth, and one of his hoodies wrapped around you like his arms had just previously been, you couldn’t do it for some reason. You turned your phone off and carelessly tossed it somewhere in your room, burying your face into your pillow that smelled like him for a restless night of sleep.

When you eventually woke up for the final time that morning, you didn’t know what time it was other than it was bright outside. Finding your phone in the corner of your room atop a pile of clothes that had thankfully protected it from harm the previous night, you saw that it had died overnight. You plugged it in, keeping it off as you went to get breakfast for yourself.

Finally, you returned to your room and turned your phone on, wincing as you saw the notifications immediately take up your screen. Dozens of texts and calls from Doyoung, beginning with the simple informing you of his arrival at the airport and how excited he was to see you one last time, working up to his more frequent and desperate calls that cumulated to one text:

[doyoung: i’ll see you when i get back, i love you]

_I love you._

You read and reread those words, expecting an irrepressible grin to spread across your lips and a happiness to blossom through your chest. But instead, they struck you harshly. A weight was on your chest, limiting your air and pinning you in place as you could barely process those simple three words.

Forcing your fingers to do _something_ , you managed to reply.

[you: see you 💕]

* * *

One month somehow stretched on for an eternity, your texts, phone calls, and video calls with Doyoung becoming more and more infrequent. Not because he got any busier or tired. He was always texting you first, calling you whenever he had a moment. It was you who didn’t text back, who let the phone ring to voicemail. You would come back with lame excuses that got less believable every time you used one.

Despite this, Doyoung was as affectionate and forward as ever, reminding you of how much he was thinking of you, how much he missed you, and how excited he was to see you again. You would hollowly repeat his words, forcing smiles that hurt almost as much as you did.

You finally cried two weeks after he left, the longest you’d gone without seeing him since you’d started your relationship some months ago. Your chest shook, and you felt practically nauseous as red-hot tears streaked down your cheeks and you took shallow, wheezing breaths between pathetic whines. It hurt so much, missing him. There were no eloquent words to describe the pain you were feeling. That’s all it was: pain. It hurt so much, and all you could do to stop it was to ignore it. Ignore the hurt, ignore your feelings.

Ignore Doyoung.

The day before he was supposed to return, he texted you the details of when his flight would be landing, at what airport and gate, and that he hoped you could meet him there. You told him you would be working then, turned your phone off, and tucked yourself back in for another miserably numb evening and night.

* * *

You were woken up by the cruel and sudden yanking of your covers being ripped off of you. With goosebumps already spreading across your exposed skin, you grumbled and rolled over to look at the invader with a glare. You expected nobody else, truly.

“What the hell, Doyoung? I was sleeping,” you growled, reaching out for your blanket that was still in his hand.

He jerked it out of your reach with a scoff, sounding equally as pissed as you, “I thought you were working.”

“My boss let me leave—”

“Cut the bullshit.”

You were silent, well aware of being caught in such a blatant lie. The anger on Doyoung’s face faded to confusion and hurt, “What’s going on, Y/N?”

“Nothing, Doyoung,” you tried to fake a sweet smile as best you could, but there was no way that he _couldn’t_ see past your thin and fragile façade.

“Please, just tell me what’s going on, Y/N. Did you find someone else? Did _I_ do something?”

Staring down at your hands, you answered slowly and blandly, trying so hard to conceal any emotion in your voice, “No, it’s not that. It’s not you.”

“Then why won’t you even look at me?” He demanded, only making you bite down on your lip so hard you might draw blood, forcing your feelings back down. Then he just had to go and say, “Y/N, I love you.”

“No.”

“What?”

“I— I can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t do this, Doyoung,” you admitted, choking on every word as they came out.

Doyoung’s tone was soft but commanding, “Why not?”

And you told him. You told him so much, more than you ever knew about yourself, or let yourself even think about this past month, “I’m… terrified at the idea of it. I’m terrified of _commitment_ , of relying on someone, of losing myself in someone. I’m terrified of loving someone with my entire being. I’ve spent my whole life trying to find myself and trying to love myself that I can’t let myself depend on anyone else, I don’t want to lose myself when I’ve just found me.”

It all came rushing back to you, overflowing the banks of your mind and flooding your senses. How lost you were, how much you hated yourself, how much you tried to rely on other people to define yourself, how you idolized others to replace the happiness you didn’t feel yourself. All of your struggles were suddenly back, crushing your chest and constricting your throat. It all just hurt so much, everything you thought you had gotten past was taking you over again. This is what you were afraid of. But you could work through it again, as long as you let him go _now_.

Doyoung’s strong voice cut through your desperate thoughts of escape, “Do you love me?”

“I’m sorry,” was all you could whisper out, throat hoarse and dry.

“Do. You. Love me?” He repeated, barely managing to keep his temper down as you took much too long to answer, mouth dumbly stammering around your answer before you finally vocalized it.

“Yes.”

And then the tears came, unabashed as they absolutely cascaded from your eyes, marring and soaking everything underneath them. Doyoung was suddenly holding you, hands rubbing your back soothingly as he had you tucked neatly under his chin, letting you absolutely ruin his maroon sweater with your tears and snot and spit. He had no objections as he quietly murmured inconsequential reassurances to you.

“I’m scared, Doyoung. I’m so scared,” you confessed between heavy breaths and sniffles, unbothered by the drool that was surely dribbling down your chin at this point.

Doyoung answered without skipping a beat, “I know.”

“I missed you so much it hurt.”

“Me too.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“For what?”

“That you got— you got me. Someone who ignored you because they’re afraid to love you, that will probably keep fucking up like this in the future because they’re so scared of their own emotions.”

“Hey,” the frown in his voice was audible as one of his hands moved up to stroke your hair instead. “I know it’s not going to be easy for either of us, but if that’s part of loving you and being loved by you, then that’s what I want. I want to help you get through the difficult parts, help you be comfortable and happy and in love and loved. It’s what you deserve, you know.”

You dragged your face out from his shirt, harshly wiping at your receding tears as you focused your gaze on Doyoung. He was so close that you could see every small pore and crease on his face, see the slight chapping of his lips, see the darkness around his eyes, and feel his slight but steady breaths across your own skin. Then your tears came back in full force as you kept admiring him. You let yourself feel it, feel how much you loved him. You let it overtake every fiber of your body in that moment, welcomed the bittersweet pain washing over you.

“I love you,” your voice was weak and cracked as you said it, but it carried more weight than any words you’d ever said before.

And as you kissed him, as his lips meshed against yours in bliss, you made a quiet vow to him and to yourself. That you would try your best, that you’d fight and struggle with yourself to love him as much as he deserves, and to find that balance you’ve been craving your whole life between knowing yourself and losing yourself in someone else.


End file.
